


The Unexpected Party

by Kittlykat



Series: The Unexpected Retelling [1]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Dwarves are idiots, Gen, References to Depression, The Unexpected Party, basically a prologue to my gayer retelling of the films, references to disordered eating, the feast in bag end, with some bits from the books thrown in for good measure
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-31
Updated: 2020-07-23
Packaged: 2021-01-15 12:33:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 11,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21253460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kittlykat/pseuds/Kittlykat
Summary: The first part of my gay(er) retelling of The Hobbit





	1. The Almost-Stranger

**Author's Note:**

> I recently rewatched the films for the first time in a long time and realized that i hadnt seen them since knowing what shipping is. and i dont think i need to tell you how much that changes the way you watch films seeing as youre looking for fanfiction. also the last time i watched the films i didnt know i way A Gay so this time i changed Kíli into a woman in my mind so there were lesbians in it (but sadly that wont come into the story until later) and i thought "hey, theres a story there" so here we are. 
> 
> Have Fun!

Bilbo Baggins was thoroughly content with his life. He spent his days enjoying the sun sitting on his bench smoking his pipe, or sitting by his desk writing or doodling away to pass the time (he loved drawing trees the most, with all their little details making one big. beautiful whole). Sometimes he even had friends and family over for dinner but truth be told he tried to avoid his relatives as much as he could (especially the Sackville-Baggins branch of his family), because then the conversations would always revert back to if he had finally found a nice girl, well woman really, to settle down with. His answer always was and always will be “no” and depending on who was visiting their reactions would either be sad or disappointed because he wouldn’t be producing any offspring anytime soon, confused because they couldn’t understand why he couldn’t just find a nice girl (woman) to fall in love with or just marry for appearances sake. Others, such as the aforementioned Sackville-Bagginses for example (the only example), would be relieved as all of his family heirlooms that he received through him being the only child of an only child could possibly fall to them if only they were nice enough to him. 

Sometimes he contemplated just marrying a random girl (woman) and having a child with her for appearances sake (and possibly to stop the dreaded Sackville-Bagginses getting what they want). But whenever he thought about it seriously it just felt wrong. For him to marry someone he didn’t feel strongly about and for her to have to stay with someone who could never give her what everyone deserves. Someone who truly loves her. Sometimes he wishes he could love a woman just to get rid of the guilt of never being able to give everyone what they want. For him to have a nice normal life with a loving woman by his side and with no unnecessary complications. But that was never going to be his life. Could never be his life. That wasn’t what he was destined for.

Even though he has always known that deep down he has been ignoring those thoughts lately. If he is fine with the way his life is now why should he change anything. He doesn’t mind having his friends and family over every once in a while. He enjoys sitting at his desk and letting his mind wander. He might even say he loved sitting on his bench smoking his pipe basking in the last sunlight of the day. Why should he risk disrupting his current comfort with a frivolous search for adventure.

After a long day of arguing with himself he decided to clear his mind on his trusted bench. And it was going quite well up until an unexpected visitor turned up and started philosophising about the simple greeting of ‘good morning’. As he had no idea who this stranger was, he told him to leave him alone and made a move to go back inside where he was safe from any more variations of possible interpretations of good bloody morning. It was much too early for this.

“Don’t you remember me, Bilbo Baggins?”, he asked, almost sounding offended.

“Should I?”

“I had hoped you’d at least recognise me, my name is Gandalf.”

“Gandalf? Yes of course,” his voice now much lighter in tone than mere seconds ago, “weren’t you the one with all those magnificent fireworks at my great aunt’s birthday party all those years ago? My my, that was a lovely evening.”

“If I remember correctly you were the young boy who so desperately wanted go exploring in the woods but wasn’t allowed to. So the little rascal snuck off when no one was looking.”

“Oh yes I remember that. I was such a massive trouble for my parents. They never could keep me in one place.”

“You were merely an adventurous child”, Gandalf added, remembering how he was the one to notice he was gone and tried to find him, “and as far as I can recall we found you up the tallest tree in the darkest part of the forest.”

Bilbo smiled as he thought of that memory. _I’ve always been an excellent climber_, he thought to himself. There were so many fascinating things that night. Creepy-crawlies everywhere and the strangest types of mushrooms he had ever come across. But that smile quickly soured. He didn’t want to be reminded of what he was trying to forget for the last 40 odd years. He didn’t want to be reminded of all the fun he could’ve had if he’d just never suppressed his desire to see all the amazing things the world could show him, if he’d been allowed to explore at his heart’s desire.__

_ _

_ _“It has been nice talking to you but I must now ask you to leave,” Bilbo said as he stood up to collect his things from the bench, “good morning,” he added hastily, hurrying up the stairs to avoid another second with the almost-stranger standing by his gate; to avoid all those seductive memories he was reminding him of. He did not need that right now. Not when he's got a family dinner to prepare for._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my first fic so please be patient. if theres anything that confuses you or youre no sure about dont be afraid to ask and if there are any major grammatical or spelling mistakes im open to correction (as long as you tell me nicely). i also wont be describing every scene from the films and some wont have the same dialogue, but if there are specific scenes or lines that you would like me to include you can tell me and ill try to include it.


	2. The complete strangers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (If youre wondering why im using male pronouns for both Kili and Fili even though i said they were women its because Bilbo has assumed that theyre men)

A few days after that encounter Bilbo had almost forgotten about it but only because he had no idea that it was by no means a mere coincidence. 

As he tucked into a nice light meal he prepared for himself he heard a knock at the door. 

_That’s odd,_ he thought to himself, _I’m not expecting anyone until at least next week._ Unless he wrote down the wrong date. No, his annual family dinner definitely isn’t for another 5 days. So who could be at the door. Hopefully this poor sod is knocking on the wrong door and he’s actually looking for a different door to knock on. Or he’s just lost his way and all he needs is for bilbo to tell him which way to go. After calming himself down from that brief panic he went and opened the door to see what it was he was needed for.

“Dwalin, at your service”, the strange tall man announced.

“Bilbo Baggins, at yours…”, he trailed off as Dwalin entered his home and hung up his thick cloak on a hook. Without asking.

“So where’s the feast?”

“What feast?”, bilbo was starting to wonder if this very large man was just pulling his leg. Or maybe if he was just plain mad.

“Aah yes there it is”, he said triumphantly as he spotted Bilbo’s dinner. 

\--------------- 

Both men were sitting at the table, but only Dwalin was eating. Bilbo didn’t have the heart to tell him that he wasn’t prepared for visitors. And that he was eating his meal he prepared for himself and only himself to eat.

“Is there any more?”, Dwalin asked. Bilbo looked around his kitchen and spotted a bowl full of rolls of bread.

“Here you go”, he said, handing it to his unexpected guest, but not before taking one of the rolls and hiding it behind his back.

As soon as Dwalin started eating his bread rolls there was a knock at the door.

“Ah, finally, this must be the others.”

“Others, what others?” Bilbo’s head shot up. _Why do there have to be others?_ Bilbo went to open the door, fearing what was waiting for him on the other side.

“Balin, at your service”, the new, slightly shorter (but still taller than Bilbo) and significantly older looking man said. Well at least he looks a little kinder than the other one. Bilbo gestured to him to come in. He also hung up his cloak on a hook.

“Balin!”, the first visitor shouted from the kitchen. Bilbo couldn’t tell if he had food in his mouth or if he was just mumbling. He really hoped it was the latter.

“My Gods, its so good to see your ugly mug again, Dwalin.” Both men walked towards each other and at first Bilbo thought they were going in for a hug, but no they headbutted each other. _Who are these people and why are they in my house???_

“Were going to be needing more food in here, Bilbo! I see more visitors.” And as if by magic there was a knock at the door. _How many more are there?_

As it turns out two

“Fili.”

“Kili.”

“At your service”, they say in unison. Well these two don’t seem so bad.

“You must be Mr. Boggins.” _Never mind._

“No, sorry, you’ve come to the wrong house. There’s no Mr. Boggins here”

“Has it been cancelled?”, the one called Kili asked with a clear note of panic in his voice.

“No one told us.”, the other one said, notably less worried and more doubtful.

“No, nothings been cance- “, Bilbo try to close the door on them but Kili put his hand in the way.

“Well that’s alright then”, he said, barging in. The other one, Fili, quietly apologized his companion’s behaviour and followed his friend into the hallway. They both took their cloaks off and hung them on a hook each. Bilbo was now officially out of hooks. The blond one asked him where to put all of his knives (and there were a lot of knives), but Bilbo couldn’t think of anywhere so he just took them and planned on looking for somewhere appropriate.

“So where’s the feast?”, Fili asked. Bilbo didn’t know how to respond, so he just led them to the pantry. As soon as they saw all the food he had they just took any and everything that took their fancy with no regard for what they were actually allowed to eat. Not that Bilbo would’ve been able to tell them that he didn’t want them eating any of his food. How they hadn’t noticed this is anybody’ guess. Just as Bilbo stopped Fili from taking the bowl of his precious truffles into the kitchen, he heard a knock at the door. He temporarily put Fili’s knives down on the chest nearest to the door before opening it.

“I have had enough. If this is another one of you I swear I'll kill him and then myself”, he muttered to himself as he went to open the door, “I’m sorry there’s no m-“, he started but was rudely interrupted by a bunch of large men falling onto his floor almost crushing him. He was speechless. After everyone had gotten up and taken their cloaks off, there wasn’t anywhere left to hang them, so they just put them on whatever surface they could find. Bilbo thought he could mention that they could hang them on the backs of their chairs. But then he spotted the man responsible for all this.

_Gandalf._

If Bilbo didn’t know any better, he would’ve said that Gandalf’s face looked apologetic.


	3. The Almost-Disaster, pt. 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this took a while for me to finish but i was trying to figure out where this story would go so i started imagining stuff Kili and Tauriel might do together and i made myself love-sick. even though im not crushing on anyone right now just the thought of two women falling in love is enough to make me long for something ive never had. 
> 
> my life is sad

“What’s your name, Halfling? Mine’s Bofur”, one of the new arrivals asked.

“Hobbit”, Bilbo corrected him.

“Hobbit?”, another one whispered to the one standing next to him.

“Sounds a bit silly if you ask me”, the one standing next to him replied, equally quiet.

“No, you misunderstood me. I’m not a Halfling, I’m a Hobbit.”

“What’s a Halfling then if its not a Hobbit?”, the one called Bofur asked, confused but seemingly genuinely curious to know the answer. A few others murmured in agreement.

“Halfling is just the name Big Folk have given us, but we don’t like being called half a being. I’m not half anything, I’m a full Hobbit. It’s not my fault everyone else is so big”, Bilbo added. To his relief the new arrivals chuckled at his last comment. Big Folk have been known to not take kindly to the suggestion that a word they thought was harmless could actually be seen as offensive. “My name is Bilbo Baggins.”

“Oh yes, Baggins. I remember now. My name’s Bombur, pleasure to finally meet you.” _Well that makes a change at least._ “Has the feast already begun without us.” _Never mind._

Everyone else introduced themselves after that and Bilbo wasn’t sure if he could remember them all of them. Or indeed if he heard them right. They definitely weren’t like any Hobbitish names he’s ever come across. Presumably because they weren’t Hobbits. He’d already ruled that out from the start because, well, they had _beards_. But that didn’t exactly narrow it down. Bilbo also knew these couldn’t be Humans as those would be taller. The same height as Gandalf in fact. He couldn’t come up with anything that made sense.

“They’re quite a merry bunch, don’t you think”, Gandalf said to Bilbo after all the newest guests entered the kitchen to greet those already settled in. From where they were they could hear a lot of cheering and greeting and also some smacking. Bilbo presumed they were headbutting eachother. _Again? What is wrong with these people? Merry bunch my arse._

“Gandalf, what’s going on? Who are these people?”, Bilbo demanded. He’d had enough of all this mystery. “And what are they doing in my home?”, he added in a slightly more hushed tone.

“Oh, you’ll find out soon enough, my dear Bilbo.” If it weren’t or the laws of this land Bilbo would surely have strangled Gandalf by now. That and the slight height difference.

\---------------

Bilbo’s pantry was getting more and more empty by the second and there was nothing he could do about it. That doesn’t mean he didn’t try though. But all his attempts only led to him finding out really disturbing thing about his strange, unusually tall guests. For example, one of them regularly eats whole blocks of cheese in one go. And they all apparently enjoy throwing their food around the room just to see if someone can catch it. They obviously have no qualms about walking on tables either. And one of them doesn’t even know that croquet and crochet aren’t the same thing. After Bilbo came to the conclusion that nothing could be done to stop these visitors, intruders really, from doing anything and everything they wanted he sat on a rickety chair in a corner of his kitchen and zoned out as they made this room messier and messier and messier. The weirdest part was that Gandalf didn’t seem to mind it. It even looked like he enjoyed it.

Occasionally one of them would get up from the table to get something else from the pantry and it felt like everyone shouted their orders at the one standing up. Most times all items could be found without assistance or even permission. This was not one of those times.

“Bilbo!”, Balin shouted into the kitchen from the hallway, “Where’s your drinks cabinet? I can’t seem to find it.”

Bilbo debated whether or not he should lie. He didn’t want to lose his wine to these people. They wouldn’t truly be able to appreciate it. But something in him decided he wanted to be honest with his visitors. So he went to show Balin his special secret Alcohol Cabinet. He never thought another living being would ever get to see it, especially not one he’s only just met. But something about the kind, old man made him feel like his collection wouldn’t go to waste. Even if it wasn’t just him drinking it. 

“Well, well, well. Don’t you have a nice selection”, Balin said to himself while admiring all the differently shaped bottles with liquids of various colours inside them. “What would you recommend, laddie?” 

“Well, that depends on what youre looking for. Something strong? Fruity? Something that tastes terrible but gets the job done? Or simply ale?”, Bilbo asked, mentioning any type of beverage he has. “To tell you the truth I’ve never realised how much I have in here.”

“I believe Fili and Kili have already found your ale, for which I feel I must apologize for on their behalf, but you wouldn’t happen to have any wine, would you? I’m sure Dori would like that.”

Bilbo went to grab a bottle from one of the lower shelves. “This one should do it. It’s almost the same age as me, you know.” Bilbo chuckled to himself. Was he really going to give his oldest bottle of wine to people he’s only just met? “Anything else?” Yes, he was.

“You mentioned something strong, didn’t you? A few of us would enjoy something strong, I’m sure.”

“I should have something somewhere.” He thought for a moment and then lunged into the dustiest part of his little collection. “I’d almost forgotten I had this. But I must give you the same warning I was. Never drink it neat. Not just because of its strength, but also because the taste is quite frankly terrible. I saw what it did to my good friend Gilbe-“

“My dear Bilbo, we dwarves are used to drinking Shelkel. I think we can handle this”, Balin said before leaving to go back to the kitchen to show his companions what he had found.

_Oh theyre dwarves. That explains a lot._

Bilbo quickly followed Balin to make sure they used the right glasses for their drinks. He didn’t want them doing it wrong. Not if he had anything to do with it.

“It’s so nice to be able to have a proper drink again. I haven’t had one in ages”, the one with the ridiculous hat, Bofur, Bilbo reminded himself, told anyone who was listening. “The last time must’ve been ooh about three years ago now. Bombur you remember your 162nd birthday party, don’t you.” Bilbo definitely wanted to hear this story. “When Adad got you some of that Shelkel from the Iron Hills. And we finished the whole bottle that very night. The ridiculous things we…-“ he stopped talking.

“Bilbo.” Fili said as Bilbo turned to Bofur to see what made him stop. “Don’t move.”

“What?” Bilbo lowered his voice, “What is it?”, he asked fearing the worst. 

“There’s a spider on your arm”, Kili replied, trying to sound calm as to not upset Bofur any more than he already was. Bilbo noticed he had lost a lot of the colour from his cheeks and his face was frozen. 

Bilbo looked down and, unsurprisingly, there was a spider. Slightly larger than ones he usually gets around his hobbit-hole but not massive by any means. _It must’ve been in my drinks cabinet,_ he thought to himself as he took the spider into his hand and started to walk out of the kitchen.

“Can someone open the door for me, please?”, he shouted when he realised he couldn’t open it with this spider in his hands. A moment later Balin appeared by his side and reached for the door. As Bilbo put the spider on the large shrub just outside his door Balin interrupted the silence.

“I’m very sorry about that, he’s never particularly liked spiders.”

“That seems like a bit of an understatement to me.”

“I guess you’re right”, he added with a chuckle.

“It’s fine, really, I’m used to it. I have a friend who reacts the same way whenever he sees a bee.”

“Do you also always carry bees away when needed?”

“Well bees are harder, because they just fly about, but I do try to. Don’t you try to carry away spiders?”

“Most of the time one of us just squishes it, to be honest, just to get rid of it as quickly as possible.” 

Bilbo nodded in understanding as they neared his kitchen again. There he could see Bofur looking slightly better than just before, but still rattled. Fili was sitting beside him with a comforting hand on his shoulder.

“It’s been taken care of”, Balin told the room as an answer to Bofur’s fearful look in their direction. His whole body relaxed as soon as he heard that. 

“I think he might need that drink now, Mr. Boggins”, Kili said, trying to brighten up everyone’s mood. 

"You know what, I think you're right", Bilbo said as he filled one of his glasses to the brim with his strongest drink.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i have changed some of the tags so if theres something new in there you dont want to read then im sorry for not putting it in there sooner


	4. The Almost-Disaster, pt.2

Even after a hefty swig of Bilbo’s strongest drink it took a while for Bofur to be back to his usual jovial self, but that was to be expected. It isn’t exactly easy to recover from seeing the thing that absolutely terrifies you. One thing, however, was not expected. And that was that Bilbo, after having a glass or two of his wine, started joining his dwarven visitors’ conversations and actually started to agree with Gandalf. They were quite a merry bunch. If a little odd, but Bilbo wasn’t about to complain about people being a little odd. Not with his reputation. 

The things he found out about them now were less disturbing by far than the thing he found out before. He now knows that Dori truly appreciates his wine, probably even more than Bilbo or any of his family and friends would’ve done if he’d waited for a special occasion to open it. Possibly even more than Gandalf, which is saying something. Fili and Kili are both excellent entertainers and can coordinate any kind of trick with only a look (most notably standing on opposite sides of the table and juggling various vegetables back and forth and seemingly without warning throw an item at an unsuspecting spectator). Both Bifur and Bofur were toymakers by trade, though have not always been as evidenced by the bit of metal sticking in the former’s head (from an axe apparently), whereas their cousin Bombur was a cook. As for the others, well, at least he was starting to get the hang of their names. 

\-------

“Bilbo, can I have a brief word with you? If you wouldn’t mind”, Gandalf asked, interrupting the conversation he was having with Balin about nothing in particular. 

“Sure”, Bilbo said hesitantly, looking at Balin just to make sure he was also alright with cutting this conversation short, ”what’s the matter?”

“Oh no, nothing’s the matter. But could we take it into the hallway? It’s a bit too cramped in here for me.” At that Bilbo got up from where he was sitting at the table, looked at Balin in apology and followed Gandalf.

Upon seeing a seemingly very anxious wizard standing in his hallway Bilbo piped up.

“Are you sure nothing’s the matter. You seem a little on edge.”

“No, nothing’s wrong, I just need to tell you something.” Gandalf paused for a moment, his eyes looking in no particular direction, clearly trying to think of what to say or how to say it. “This isn’t all the company you’ll be having this evening.”

“What do you mean?,” Bilbo asked quickly, and as a realisation dawned on him he added in almost a whisper, “How many more are coming?”

“Just the one, Bilbo, don’t fret. It’s just you might find him to be a little … different compared to the rest.”

“What do you mean ‘different’?” Bilbo was strangely more worried now than he was a mere two seconds ago when he was imagining another 20 dwarves assaulting his already empty pantry.

“Oh nothing really … uhm … oh Ori, what can we do for you?” Bilbo almost jumped at Ori’s sudden presence next to him. Almost.

“I’m sorry to interrupt. But I was just wondering what I should do with my plate.” Bilbo didn’t know what to say to that. Not because he couldn’t say that he could just put it by the sink and he’d take care of it later, but because the way this young dwarf spoke made him seem so innocent. And nothing like the dwarves that were throwing their food around. Just as Bilbo opened his mouth to say something another dwarf appeared on his other side.

“Give it to me, Ori. I’ll take care of it,” Fili said as he snatched the plate from Ori’s hand. 

Taking care of it apparently meant throwing it to another dwarf standing by the doorway to the kitchen.

“Don’t you dare, that’s my mother’s china. You’ll break it.”

There was some stomping coming from the kitchen. And some scraping.

“What are y-… You’ll blunt them!”

“You hear that lads, he says we’ll blunt the knives.” His voice had an air of humour that Bilbo did not like one bit. One thing he liked even less was the sound of one of them starting to sing. About blunting his knives.

If Bilbo was being completely honest, he didn’t really know what was going on. He was too distracted by his crockery and cutlery flying through the air. Crockery and cutlery that had been passed down to him by both his mother and father, Yavanna rest their souls, which was both precious to him and priceless to any hobbit with any knowledge of finer things. He couldn’t bear the thought that his family’s heirlooms could end up either smashed on the floor or bent beyond recognition by these brutish dwarves. They even seemed to be enjoying themselves. Doing everything he hates, as they so nicely put in the song. 

Bilbo tried grabbing at his possessions as they were flying through the air, but could never seem to even touch any of them. Part of the problem could have been that his reflexes were too slow. Another could have been that there was too much going on and he was starting to panic just a little, which wasn’t good for his reaction time, come to think of it. As the song was coming to an end (hopefully) Bilbo was nearing his kitchen again and when the dwarves had sung their last ‘that’s what Bilbo Baggins hates’ he turned to face his table. On it he saw stacks of bowls and plates. Unbroken and clean bowls and plates. Behind it he saw dwarves who looked very proud of themselves, almost presenting their work to him with expecting and hopeful looks on their faces. It felt like as if the coil that had being getting ready to snap back at any moment suddenly lost all the tension that it had been holding.

“What did you do that for? You scared the living daylights out of me,” he said as he practically collapsed into the nearest chair, burying his head into his hands to stop him from losing what little composure he had left.

“We’re very sorry Mister Boggings, but it’s the only way the host lets us clean up our own dirty dishes,” one of the younger members of the gathering (probably Kili) said.

”Only usually they don’t react quite so negatively,” the one next to him (possibly Fili) said. So much for finally having their names figured out, “usually the host realises that we know what we’re doing.”

“So this was planned,” Bilbo stated, still not quite believing what just happened. At that most of the dwarves nodded. Some more enthusiastically than others. Some even looking a bit sorry.

“Bilbo, I’m very sorry,” Gandalf said from behind him, “we thought this might cheer you up a bit.”

“You were a part of this as well?”, Bilbo asked. Rhetorically. He might as well have accused him of betrayal of trust. But Gandalf understood what was meant. 

Bilbo buried his face in his hands again and took a few long, deep breaths to keep his emotions under control. He thought he was doing pretty well, but then he felt a hand on his shoulder.

“Are you alright lad?”, the oldest guest (definitely Balin) asked. Even though he sounded concerned, Bilbo was comforted by this stranger’s gesture.

“I’ll be fine, I just- I just need a moment.” Bilbo smiled at Balin as thanks. 

But sadly he didn’t have a moment, because as soon as he said that there was a knock at the door and everyone fell silent. This must be the dwarf Gandalf was talking about. He would’ve liked to just walk up to the door in peace. But all the dwarves got up from where they were and followed him all the way there. He could feel the tension rise exponentially the moment he opened the door. 

Bilbo did not know what he expected this last dwarf to look like after Gandalf’s extremely vague description but it certainly wasn’t _that_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> its taking a while to get going but i feel like im finally getting into a bit of a schedule. im currently a student so i cant guarantee any form of regular updates (especially seeing as ive got many exams to study for) but im trying my best.
> 
> i have some ideas about plot points that are in no way directly relevant to the main plot but i really like them and i want people to know about them, but im new to this and i have no idea how to go about it. i dont know if should do a flashback chapter every now and again (read: whenever ive written one instead of the main plot) or should i make it a completely seperate story so it doesnt clog up the main storyline and people can avoid it if they dont want to read my random ideas. 
> 
> any sort of input would really help, even if its just "i dont care just write stuff". 
> 
> Comments and kudos really make my day so dont be shy and tell me what you think. i dont bite


	5. The Complete Disaster, Pt. 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry about the long break. Hopefully ill get more done now theres a quarantine going on but who knows. Anyways heres some more words. I hope you find them enjoyable.

“Gandalf, I thought you said this place would be easy to find.” Bilbo was too in shock from how normal this newest arrival looked to be offended or even notice that there was no ‘at your service’-ing coming from him. 

“I lost my way. Twice.” He just looked so normal. Apart from the beard that is. All the other dwarves’ faces were so much _gnarlier_. 

“I would never have found this place if it weren’t for that mark on the door.” That finally got Bilbo out of his daze.

“Mark? What mark? I can assure you that that door has no mark on it, it was painted a week ago!”

“There is a mark there,” Gandalf spoke up, “I put it there.”

All Bilbo could do was look at the perpetrator in shock.

“Bilbo Baggins, let me introduce you to the leader of our company, Thorin Oakenshield,” he added while gesturing to the most recent addition to this ‘merry gathering’. When Bilbo could pull his eyes away from Gandalf, who it seemed did not see any problem with marking someone’s door without their permission, he noticed that this Thorin Oakenshield was looking at him with an amused smile on his lips.

“So this is the Halfling”, he said while walking around Bilbo, “Axe or sword?”

“Pardon?”

“Weapons. Which do you use?”

Bilbo, not seeing how this was relevant and also desperately wanting to defuse the situation, just said the first thing that came to his mind.

“Well, if you must know, I have been known to be quite skilled at conkers”, was what he came up with. Not his proudest moment if he was being perfectly honest.

Thorin merely smirked at that. As if Bilbo was an incompetent child trying to be impressive. Bilbo was an incompetent adult trying to be funny, which warrants a completely different reaction. 

“Exactly what I thought,” he said under his breath before continuing in the volume he was speaking in before, which was still a little loud to be using indoors, “he looks more like a grocer than a burglar.”

“Burglar? Why would I look like a burglar?” When Bilbo looked at Gandalf, hoping he would be able to enlighten him, the wizard just ignored him.

“Thorin, you must be exhausted after your long journey,” the wizard said over Bilbo’s inquiries, “why don’t you have something to eat.”

That seemed to get the other dwarves in his home start talking again.

“I don’t think there’s much left. Not after how much we had,” said one behind Bilbo.

“Maybe there’s still something left in the pantry I can turn into a meal,” said another, possibly Bombur.

“I’ll go check,” Bilbo announced before anyone else could. All he wanted to do was get away from all the excitement. 

When he arrived at the doorway to his beloved pantry he almost broke down in despair. It was emptier than he’d ever seen it. Even after the Fell Winter there was more left. All the meat was gone. And the cheese. The only things still there were two small parsnips, three medium sized carrots and a leek. 

“There really isn’t much left.” Bilbo jumped at the sudden presence of Bombur, who looked somewhat regretful. If it was because he frightened his host or because they’d eaten almost all of his food he couldn’t tell.

“Not really, no, but I think I might be able to make a nice soup with these,” he said holding up the few vegetables he could find, “who knows, maybe I might actually be able to have some of it.”

“Yes, a soup would be nice- wait, are you saying that you haven’t eaten anything yet?” When Bilbo shrugged the dwarf seemed to completely change from friendly to fiercely determined as he took everything Bilbo had in his arms and stormed into the kitchen. 

\-----

Bilbo offered to help the large dwarf in his cooking, truly, he did. But Bombur would only mutter “I couldn’t possibly ask you to help me make food for you” in response. It made him feel utterly useless. Watching a guest make food for him in his own kitchen was not something he ever thought he’d have to do. Strangely that felt weirder than the fact it was a dwarf doing it. And it was certainly substantially weird that it was a dwarf.

While Bilbo was patiently and awkwardly sitting at the table waiting for the soup to be done, the leader of this “company” as Gandalf called it was talking to some of the earlier arrivals. What about he didn’t know, but one conversation sounded a lot more serious than the others and Bilbo wasn’t sure if he wanted to know what it was about.

As a way to distract himself from the excessive oddness of the situation he tried to think of other things. Tried is the operative word here as he couldn’t think of much that had nothing to do with what was happening. Though there was one phrase of his father’s that popped into his mind that so far has never led him astray. ‘When in crisis, think of food’. But all that came to mind on the topic of food was how little he had eaten. He hadn’t even had the bread roll he stole for himself when it had only been Dwalin in his dining room. 

Of course! The bread roll. You cant have soup without bread. But he only had one. Oh well, he’d be a terrible host if he had the roll and made his guest go without, so he put it at the head of the table where this Mister Oakenshield fellow was presumably going to sit. 

Bowls! How had he forgotten bowls. You couldn’t eat soup without a bowl. Luckily Bilbo knew he had more than enough bowls for the two of them. While he was by the drawers he remembered to get two spoons as well. 

The soup was just about ready to be served when Mister Oakenshield decided to grace the kitchen with his presence. And what a presence it was. It made Bombur go nervous when before he had only been shy and it made Bilbo realise how small he was. Which was never a good thing for a hobbit to feel. 

When a substantial portion of soup had been poured into their bowls Thorin picked up his bread to dunk into his meal and looked over to Bilbo. That’s when Thorin noticed the Hobbit had nothing to dunk so he tore his roll in half and tossed one piece over to Bilbo. Bilbo, feeling stupid that he hadn’t thought of that, could only offer Thorin a thankful smile. A few mouthfuls into the meal the Dwarf thought it was the right time to ask a question.

“So how is it that the host has not eaten this evening?”

“Hmm?”, was all Bilbo could offer in response as he didn’t want to spit out the soup that was currently in his mouth.

“It was my understanding that the host of a gathering usually prepares enough food for themselves as well as all their guests,” Thorin stated with a hint of something, possibly disapproval”, and not have to rely on their guests to provide them with food.”

“Well it was my understanding that a guest usually announces their arrival at least a few days in advance as to give their host enough time to prepare”, Bilbo retorted with a hint of something, definitely annoyance, ”and not turn up without any sort of warning and act as if they own the place.”

“You didn’t know?”

“Clearly not.”

“Gandalf didn’t tell you?”

“No.”

“He said he’d tell you.”

“Well, he didn’t.”

\-----

The rest of the meal passed in silence, the only sounds coming in the form of slurping from them and merriment from Bilbo’s sitting room where the rest of the Dwarves were. Miraculously they finished eating at the same time as each other. Both now satisfied and full with hot soup, Bilbo took their dirty bowls to wash them up and Thorin called for everyone to gather around the table.


	6. The Complete Disaster, Pt. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo reads the contract

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's been a bit of a change of plan. im gonna split it up into different parts of the story so i dont clog up the tags with unnecessary things. so apologies if a specific tag is the reason you started reading this but it may take a while for me to get to it. but i will. at some point. i promise.
> 
> also with lockdown going on my mind has wandered to many intersting places and irrelevant plotpoints so it may take me a while to write down yaknow the bits i need
> 
> Also this chapter ran away from me and just went on and on (its still not as long as some chapters ive seen people writ but for me its pretty long) and it got to over 3000 words (aaahh)
> 
> so enjoy! have fun! Defund the police!

Bilbo was amazed that all thirteen dwarves could fit around his table. It did look quite snug if he was being completely honest, but it didn’t look like any of them were being squished too much. They were clearly comfortable enough as they were having a very lively discussion about something or other. Bilbo wasn’t entirely following what was going on, but he could tell it was about a mountain, a map, a long lost home and possibly a key. It all sounded very mysterious. When an object came up that apparently needed to be retrieved everyone turned to look at him. All Bilbo could do was look back at them in confusion.

“And that’s where you come in”, Gandalf announced as if it was the most normal thing in the world.

“What?”

“You’re going to steal it back for us”, one of the younger dwarves at the back piped up.

“What?”

“Balin, the contract”, the leader practically barked at the white-haired dwarf next to him who immediately started rooting around in the pack he had by his feet. After a few moments a small smile spread across his face.

“Aha!”, he cried triumphantly and handed the folded-up paper to Thorin who in turn thrust the item into Bilbo’s chest.

Without properly registering what was happening he unfolded the contract, which promptly began unfolding entirely on its own. It was so long it dragged on the floor when Bilbo walked further into his hallway, but he was too distracted by what was written on it to notice.

_By signing this contract I hereby declare that I am willing and able to perform my sworn duty as burglar of the company of Thorin Oakenshield and, upon arriving at the gates of Erebor, will reclaim the Arkenstone from the treasury in Erebor._

In a usual Shire contract this would’ve been enough information, but not for these dwarves apparently. There were still quite a few paragraphs to go and some had headings. One of which was ‘Injury, Death & Funeral Arrangements’. Bilbo, naturally, skipped ahead to that particular paragraph.

_In the event of injury or death the company, if remaining, will not be held responsible, as there are many dangers on such a venture, both foreseeable and not, and although every member of this company will be encouraged to protect and defend every other member, complete safety from any form of harm cannot be guaranteed._

Bilbo had to admit, this all seemed rather reasonable. Ignoring the fact that it casually states that death is a possibility. Trying to not let his mind dwell on that for too long, he read on.

_In the event of death, the company will carry out any rites wished to be performed in such a situation. However, seeing as death could occur through means including but not limited to evisceration or incineration, certain rites might not be feasible._

Wait. _What?_

“Incineration?”

“Oh aye, he’ll melt the skin right of your bones in the blink of an eye.” That dwarf with his bloody ridiculous hat had no business being so cheery while Bilbo was struggling to even think.

“Who?”

“Smaug the Terrible,” the same dwarf replied and, when Bilbo still looked confused, he added, “the greatest calamity of our Age.”

“A dragon,” a voice helpfully supplied. 

A dragon. Great. Just wonderful.

“You alright laddie?”, the white-haired dwarf asked after Bilbo let out a sound that was somewhere between a groan and a whine. All he could do to answer was nod his head slightly.

“You know what a dragon is, right? About the size of large hill. Razor sharp teeth. Big ones too.”

“Yes yes I know what a dragon is you don’t need to describe it,” Bilbo said, trying to hide the fact that his mind was running wild.

“Massive claws,” he went on because, apparently, he did need to describe it, “that’s why there’s the warning for evisceration.”

Bilbo’s attempts at taking deep breaths to calm himself weren’t working. It still felt like the walls of his home were trying to suffocate him and all this casual talk of very real dangers made his hands shake and head spin. Besides, the feeling he got in his stomach made him regret having so much soup.

“Air, I- I need air.”

“Breathes fire as well, very dangerous. Think furnace, with wings.”

_Happy thoughts, Bilbo, happy thoughts._

“Flash of light, searing pain, then poof, you’re nothing more than a pile of ash.”

It was pointless. His vision was unfocused, and every part of his body felt exhausted. He knew what was going to happen. With one last look at his guests and no warning, he collapsed onto the floor.

\-----

Someone has made tea. He could smell it. He couldn’t see it though. It took him embarrassingly long to figure out why.

His eyes were closed.

When he finally found the energy and motivation to open them the sight in front of him made him jump. One of the dwarves was holding a steaming cup of tea under his nose. And standing quite close as well. Extremely close.

“Back with us, are you?”, he asked, though it was more a statement than a genuine question. 

When Bilbo looked at him more closely than he has had the chance to and he noticed that while he had thought that this particular dwarf had short hair, the intricate braiding probably hid a lot of its length. He was so entranced by this dwarf’s hair’s patterns he forgot to react to his ‘question’.

“Here, take this.” He offered the cup he was holding, and Bilbo took it automatically. “I don’t know how you halfl-, sorry, Hobbits blend your teas and for what purpose but from what I could decipher from your tea chest I believe I have made you a cup of chamomile. For dwarves that would be considered a calming tea. Is it the same for hobbits?”

“Oh, err, y- yes, it is”, this was too much for a simple hobbit like him to handle, ”thank you.”

Just now was Bilbo realising that he was in his living room. In his comfortable armchair. With a fire roaring beside him. Though it felt nice, it didn’t feel right. But he couldn’t say why. Wasn’t he only just in his hallway?

_Oh._

He’d fainted. How embarrassing. 

“Are you feeling well?”, the same dwarf asked, making Bilbo realise he had made a sound of some sort, maybe sigh that came out more voiced than he wanted it to, that made the dwarf standing in front of him worry about him.

“Yes, yes I feel fine”, a small lie, if even that. It’s true, he might not feel well enough to stand up just yet, but he didn’t feel like he’d pass out again or be sick on the floor in front of him. When the dwarf didn’t seem reassured Bilbo added, “Really, I’ll be fine. And thank you.” For the tea, but he hoped he didn’t have to say that.

A voice came from the other side of the wall and the dwarf, Dori, he finally remembers, smiled as if to apologise for being needed elsewhere and left Bilbo to sit in his living room alone. Where he was trying to piece together his slightly fragmented memories from the evening so far so he might figure out what it was that made him faint in front of a bunch of dwarves he’s only just met. For some reason, his mind conjured the image of a dragon, but there have been none sighted this far south in at least an age, maybe even two. Why would he be thinking of such a creature? Surely he’d need to travel quite a way to-. That dratted mountain those dratted dwarves were talking about. They seriously thought he’d uproot his whole life just to accompany them to a dragon infested –

“I’ve spoken wi- “

“Sweet suffering Yavanna!”, Bilbo yelped and spilt his tea all over himself. When he looked over to the doorway to the hallway, he saw it was the leader of this pack of dwarves who spoke. “Sorry, I didn’t see you there.” At that the dwarf only shook his head as if to say that it was fine.

“I’ve spoken with the others and according to them Gandalf said you’d already agreed to help reclaim Erebor and that the only thing left to do before leaving was for you to sign the contract”, he explained. “Is that true?”

Bilbo didn’t reply because he felt he did not need to as the dwarf already seemed to know the answer. All he did in response was nod, give a resigned sigh, and walk back to where the rest of the dwarves were.

When Bilbo realised he was completely alone he thought _‘well I might as well find out what it was that I have supposedly agreed to’_ and picked up the contract that was oh so conveniently lying on the little table next to his armchair. Ah yes, ‘Costs and Remuneration’, this should be good.

_If the company needs to pay for anything, such as extra provisions or lodging, every member shall be obliged to help pay with whatever resources are available to them. However, these purchases are not planned and susceptible to be influenced by the amount available to the company (the higher the value of coin available, the higher the amount or quality of product or service will be possible)._

_Seems logical. One cannot pay for things with insufficient funds after all._

_Once the threat of the dragon currently residing in the mountain has been neutralised, every member of the company shall receive an equal share of the King’s treasure. The specifics of how the shares of the treasure will be calculated, that is either by weight or by worth, will be decided upon by the leader, Thorin Oakenshield, at some point before the arrival at the Lonely Mountain._

_Reasonable. _

_However, if a member of the company becomes in possession of the Arkenstone, they shall not be allowed to stay in possession of it and shall give it to the rightful owner, Thorin Oakenshield, as soon as they find it. This is non-negotiable and will not be able to be influenced during the discussions surrounding the calculation of the shares of the treasure._

_That all seems to be logical. nothing shocking there._

Bilbo glanced at the rest of the contract to see if anything jumped out at him as something important. When nothing caught his eye immediately he couldn’t tell if it was because there truly wasn’t anything to catch his eye or if his mind was too exhausted from all the excitement to notice anything anymore.

_Hang on. What’s this?_

There was a little flap of paper on the side of the long parchment that had writing on it. ‘Time required’ was this particular paragraph’s title.

_The quest to the Lonely Mountain will, according to calculations, take no less than 20 weeks and no longer than 30, providing the conditions of travel are not extra-ordinary. Extra-ordinary conditions may include extreme weather (heavy rain or snow, strong winds, extreme temperatures), severe illness or injury sustained by members of the company (due to –_

“What would y- “

“Holy Green Mother!” It was Bofur. With his ridiculous hat and, thankfully, a look of regret on his face. “Sorry. I didn’t see you there”, Bilbo said for the second time that evening while picking up the contract he’d thrown into the air in fright “Can I help you in any way?” Bilbo asked cautiously, worried that while he was immersed in the contract they’d broken something without him noticing. Bofur must have noticed Bilbo’s concerned expression and quickly tried to reassure him.

“Don’t worry, nothing bad happened while you were, errm, well yes, anyway. The others were getting restless and I was wondering what you’d say about some music. Don’t worry, we can provide it. Some of us have our instruments with us. Its just a little boring with all of us stuck around a table now.”

Bilbo felt like a terrible host. A good host should never let his guests get bored. A good host should always plan entertainment for the times not already planned for food. And he probably would have done if he’d known he’d have to play host for anyone today. But it’s no use now to lament the lack of warning, as his guests are actually offering to supply their own entertainment. 

“That sounds quite nice actually”, he replied once he’d recovered from his brief lapse of shame.

“I’ll just go and inform the others then”, Bofur said cheerfully, as he is wont to do.

\-----

They did indeed bring their own entertainment. At least four of them had brought harps, but Bilbo couldn’t really tell whose they were as they kept passing them around. _Maybe the harps had no owner_, Bilbo thought, in a moment of debatable clarity. There was also at least one tin flute but whenever he tried to find out who was playing it he got distracted by a dwarf or two or five dancing erratically in front of him. He couldn’t quite make sense of their movements though. Whenever he though he’d notice a similarity with a hobbity style of dance the next moment they’d do something so different from anything he’d ever seen that he couldn’t have a coherent thought for a few seconds afterwards. 

The songs, though quite different in tune and rhythm, were surprisingly similar in lyrical composition. That is to say the topics and simplicity of the texts would fit in nicely if played at a party under the party tree. Provided the tune and rhythm were changed, obviously. Although, maybe even some of the texts wouldn’t be able to stay as they were. It sounded to Bilbo like some of the songs weren’t even in Westron. But that may have been his overtired mind struggling to comprehend the words, which wouldn’t have been too inconceivable considering the state he was in.

When Bilbo was starting to get drowsy and wasn’t paying as much attention to what was happening in his sitting room as he probably should have been, the entire mood around him changed. At first he thought his mind was playing some sort of trick on him, but after a few seconds he noticed definite changes. Whereas before everyone was acting like they hadn’t a care in the world, now it seemed they were preparing themselves for something. Every dwarven face he could see had a look of solemnity to it. This was clearly something everyone knew to expect. Everyone apart from Bilbo that is. 

Something else Bilbo didn’t know was that along with a mastery of instruments he had never come across before the dwarves’ singing voices, much like their talking voices, worked best at a much lower pitch than any hobbit’s he had ever heard. It was so deep in fact that he was too distracted by the vibrations he could feel all around him and in his chest to listen to what they were singing. 

He could pick up themes of fire and gold and something undeniably quest-y. Something so quest-y in fact that Bilbo couldn’t help but yearn for- 

Bilbo didn’t know. Didn’t know what his heart wanted. He hadn’t know that for some time now. For some reason this song made his mind wander in directions he hadn’t dared to go in donkey’s years. All he could bring himself to do was close his eyes and hope his mind didn’t run away from him and leave his body all alone in his armchair.

Before he let the voices lull him to sleep completely someone shook him gently by his arm and made him snap awake.

“I wouldn’t suppose you had any spare rooms going?”, the dwarf with the long white beard asked him. _He was the second to arrive, wasn’t he? His name rhymed with the first dwarf’s._

“Oh right, yes yes, there should be some room for you,” he replied while rubbing his face and putting his now empty mug on the table beside him. “Let me just get some duvets and blankets.” He stood up and made his way to the master bedroom. “Although I’m not sure there will be enough beds for all of you, I’m afraid.”

“That’s fine. Some of us will be happy to sleep on the floor or on your settee, but sadly there isn’t enough room for all of us to do that,” the same dwarf said, following him into the bedroom. “Besides, I think my old bones would appreciate a nice bed for a change.”

“I can imagine.” _Why can’t I think of his name? _“So”, Bilbo started, “this is the biggest bed I have.” He gestured to the referenced furniture. “If you’re prepared for a squeeze you could probably fit three of you on it. There is one more room with a double bed-”

“Isn’t this the master bedroom?”

“Yes. Why do you ask?”

“I just thought that you would sleep here. Seeing as this is your home and we are merely guests. We wouldn’t want to chase you out of your bedroom.”

“No, don’t worry I don’t sleep in here. This is my parents’ old room. I sleep in the room further down the hall.” The dwarf nodded in understanding. “As I was saying there is one more double bed and two more sinlges. There’s probably enough room for someone to sleep on the floor beside the single beds but I doubt that there’ll be enough beside the double or in here.”

The dwarf seemed to be calculating something. _I’m sure his name starts with a P. Or was it a B?_, Bilbo wondered to himself.

“I’ll need to discuss it with the others, but I believe that leaves four or five of us with no definite place to sleep. Are there any places where you don’t want anyone to sleep? Or anywhere that is exceptionally good for sleeping?”, he finished with a laugh.

“Well,” Bilbo stalled to think and when he remembered what he was doing in this room he opened the cupboard to get some blankets and pillows for his guests, “my office is definitely out of bounds. And I can’t imagine my pantries offering anywhere comfortable,” he continued while handing some bedding to the dwarf currently with no name, “but I believe the floor in the living room could fit a few. And the settee.” He has to root around in the back of the cupboard to get at the last pillow, but when he’s finished, the dwarf looks like he’s got a plan for deciding who’ll sleep where.

“Shall we?” he asked, looking towards the door to the hallway as he couldn’t exactly gesture to it with his arms full of bedding.

\-------

How the dwarf (Balin, his brain supplied only when he heard someone say the name of the first dwarf to arrive) managed to organise everyone was a mystery. Somehow, he got the bunch of rowdy dwarves to agree to sleep in whatever room they were assigned without much friction. That doesn’t mean there wasn’t any friction as at first the three youngest all wanted to sleep in the biggest bed, but “no Kili, you three still have the gift of youthful joints. Us old dwarves can’t just sleep on the floor and wake up in the morning with no complaints”.

So that was that. The three oldest got the master bedroom, the leader got one of the single rooms to himself, the other single went to Dwalin and the short(er) dwarf with by far the most interesting hairstyle, the double went to the large dwarf and the one wit the piece of metal sticking out of his head. The three youngest seemed to not mind the decision for them to sleep in the living room (“hey, that means we can sleep by the fire”). The two that were left were still discussing where they’d sleep, when Bilbo approached them to hand them their blankets and pillows.  
“Where would you recommend?”, the one with fiery red hair asked.

“Pardon?”

“For sleeping.”

“Oh, well I’ve heard my settee is quite comfortable, but the hobbits who have slept on it are probably a bit smaller than either of you two are.”

“Oh, I don’t know. I think I might fit on it, what do you say Gloin?”, the one the ridiculous hat said (Bofur, if he remembered correctly).

“Good for you, but that still doesn’t solve the problem of where I’m going to sleep.”  
“I’m sure there’s still room by the fire if you want to sleep in this room,” Bilbo offered.

“He doesn’t like sleeping on the floor. Not when we’re indoors,” Bofur announced, all-knowingly.

“Am I allowed to sleep on the table?”, Gloin asked, looking at Bilbo who was taken off guard by the request.

“Um, sure. I don’t see why not.”

Gloin looked satisfied with that answer and took his designated bedding from Bilbo.  
“But please take your shoes off, I don’t want any mud on my table.” Gloin nodded after a moment of confusion. “Actually can everyone who isn’t on the floor take their shoes off.”

But his plea met deaf ears. Or, more accurately, no ears. During his discussion with Bofur and Gloin everyone must’ve already gone to their rooms.

“I’ll go tell everyone,” the tall dark-haired one down by the fire (Kili?) announced before he ran off and started knocking loudly on doors and shouting at everyone to take their shoes off.

Well. Now all that was left to do for Bilbo was go to bed and sleep. Hopefully for a whole month.

Preferably for a whole year.


	7. The Descision

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo wakes up to an empty smial and contemptlates his life

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a bit of a shorter chapter this time but whatever. have fun. (hopefully)
> 
> i also added two tags so if those things bother you, you have been warned. but they arent really in depth decriptions of depression and disordered eating, theyre just brief references.

When Bilbo was in bed it took him a while to work through everything that happened that evening. (Was it really just one evening?) Everything just seemed so unbelievable. A dwarf turned up and ate his supper. Then another turned up and ate more of his food. Then more and more tumbled through his door and emptied his pantries and drank his special ale and wine. 

Then it turned out Gandalf had planned for him to join them on some sort of journey to a faraway mountain but hadn’t thought to inform him beforehand. But at least Bilbo had got some entertainment out of the evening. Dwarves were truly great musicians. And singers. That last song really was magical. It captured the essence of a quest, or what Bilbo thought was the essence of a quest as he had never been on one. He’d never really gone further away from home than Bree, if he was being honest. And you couldn’t really say that going to Bree was a quest. Maybe for most of the inhabitants of Hobbiton, but most of Hobbiton didn’t have Belladonna Took to compare their lives to. Most of Hobbiton wouldn’t even want to think about stepping foot outside of their comfortable lives, let alone go all the way to Rivendell. But Bilbo grew up on the tales of his mother’s adventures. He’d heard about the great wide world that was Middle Earth. 

Wait. 

Was he imagining things?

No, he could definitely hear someone singing. It sounded like it was that song everyone sang just before going to bed. But this time it was different. It was only one voice this time instead of thirteen. He couldn’t hear all the words, but the tune was still the same. But that was pretty much all that was the same. Whereas before it sounded, not necessarily joyful, but all the emotions behind it were good, it sounded celebratory, now it just sounded sad. It sounded like a mourning song.

But, Bilbo had to admit, it lulled him to sleep just the same as the first time.

\----

The morning was like any other. Bilbo got out of bed, not because he felt refreshed and wanted to start the day as soon as possible, but because he knew if he stayed in bed any longer, he’d never get up. He knew if he didn’t get up today, he wouldn’t get up tomorrow either. He wouldn’t eat. And he wouldn’t be able to go back to sleep either. The only thing he could do is get out of bed. He might not do much once up, but anything was better than being stuck in bed. 

Miraculously he actually felt like having breakfast. And judging by the angle of the light coming in through the windows it was still the right time for it. That hadn’t happened in longer than Bilbo would like to admit. He was actually looking forward to seeing what he had in his pantry. Seeing as he stocked up only a few days ago he should have many things to choose from. 

_Should have._

He hadn’t exactly planned for a dwarven raiding party. Speaking of the dwarven raiding party, where were they? Bilbo didn’t see any in his living room. Maybe he just wasn’t looking properly.

No, no one there. Maybe there’s someone in the other rooms. No, still nothing. It almost looked as if no one had been there at all. But Bilbo knew that couldn’t be the case. There must’ve been someone. Even Bilbo couldn’t have emptied his pantry in one night and still feel hungry the next morning, and he was sometimes known to eat meals the same size as himself. But then he at least felt a little queasy afterwards, if not downright horrible. There must’ve someone else, or at least a few someone else’s, to have eaten that much. 

But now they were gone. And they have left no trace. Well, almost no trace. There’s still some mud on the floor, and all the spare beds had pillows and duvets instead of just being bare. But all of Bag End was empty of dwarves. They must have left quite early if Bilbo didn’t notice them leaving. And they must have made a considerable effort to be quiet to not wake him up. Or maybe Bilbo is a deeper sleeper than he previously thought. 

The fact remains that his home was currently dwarfless. And he didn’t know how to feel about that. Part of him was disappointed. He would have at least liked to see them off and wish them luck on their quest. And maybe thank them for the most enjoyable night he’d had in a while. But alas, they were not here. Which is probably for the best, if he was being perfectly honest. Especially seeing as he was supposed to be having a feast tomorrow. Some of his relatives decided they hadn’t seen him in too long and therefore felt the need to impose themselves on him. And they certainly wouldn’t appreciate a company of dwarves sharing their food. Especially not Lobelia Sackville-Baggins who was the one to suggest such a get-together. Although it would’ve been rather amusing to see her and her husband Otho squirm in discomfort.

But now Bilbo would have to restock his pantry so he’d have enough for a second feast. Oh, but what would everyone say. ‘Did you see that Mad Baggins buying even more food?’ ‘Oh yes, he’s now bought enough food for two feasts in three days. Where is it all going? Do you think he ate it all on his own?’ ‘I think he probably just tried cooking but burnt it all or something. I don’t think he knows how to cook. He takes after his mother, you know. She never even knew the difference between a spatula and a fish slice.’ _I know how to cook perfectly well, thank you very much. Just because my mother made an admittedly severely uninformed comment on one occasion doesn’t mean I never learnt how to cook. My father was an excellent cook, not that it’s any of those gossips’ business._

_And now I’m having an imagined argument about something that hasn’t even happened. Great. I’m truly turning into Mad Baggins now._

Bilbo tried to calm his thoughts, but every attempt failed seemingly before it even began. He couldn’t reassure himself that he could still buy food for the actually planned feast without any problem, because people would ask questions and they would undoubtedly ask questions tomorrow when Bilbo had to be polite and couldn’t just tell everyone to mind their own bloody business. He couldn’t reassure himself that the dwarves were gone and he could carry on with his merry little life, because they still left _evidence_ of their brief stay. The mud on the floor for example. It would take ages to clean all that up. Even his mother’s glory box was covered in muck. 

_Hang on, what’s this?_

There was something shiny behind the box. A knife? No, more like a dagger. It must have been forgotten by one of the dwarves, as Bilbo had never owned such an item in his life.

It is a shame, though, one of the dwarves missing a weapon. Maybe it belonged to that young blond one. He sure had a lot of blades about his person. Probably so many he didn’t notice one was missing. And now he’d most likely never see this dagger again. Unless he noticed it was gone and came back for it. But that might not be until after the quest is over and done with, which definitely won’t be for a while yet. If he even comes back at all, the contract was very clear that there was an undeniable danger of death. _Oh I do hope that young lad doesn’t die. He was ever so charming. _

This dagger could help him defend himself if he ever got into a dangerous situation. He might even save someone else with this dagger. But he could only do that if he had it. Which currently he didn’t.

It just wouldn’t do if someone died just because he was missing a knife.

Speaking of things the dwarves left behind, Bilbo saw that dratted contract still laying on the small table in his living room. Surely they must have seen it, at least the dagger had fallen behind something, this was just sitting in plain sight.

Or maybe they hadn’t overlooked it. They had no use for it as it was meant for Bilbo to sign, and he hadn’t, so now it was just a useless piece of paper. But there was something odd about it. It was lying open whereas Bilbo was sure he’d folded it. As he approached that end of the room his mind was spouting out half baked theories as to why, but he wasn’t sure if he wanted to know. But he was going to find out, as although his mind was still unsure of what the best course of action was, his body was already taking care of things. So even if he wasn’t sure if it was a good idea to look at the contract, he did anyway. 

There were two signatures that definitely weren’t there before and yet, the contract still wasn’t complete. There was one signature missing. The space next to _Burglar_ was still blank. The two names that were there were _Thorin son of Thrain_ as _Leader_ and _Balin son of Fundin_ as _Witness_. But who were they expecting to sign on as their burglar?

_Oh right. Me. I had forgotten about that._

But wait. That means the young dwarf wouldn’t have to come back for his dagger, Bilbo could just take it to him. Yes now that definitely sounds like a plan. Its not like there’s anything important Bilbo would have to do in the next 20 to 30 weeks. 

And it just wouldn’t do if someone died because Bilbo didn’t give back the dagger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so this was the last chapter of the first part of the retelling. the next part will be Bilbo actually getting to know all the company properly. i hope ill be able to post that soon especially with Nano going on now.
> 
> i hope you enjoyed it and if you did it'd be nice if you told me why because i havent really let anyone read what ive written apart from posting this for complete strangers to see so i have no idea if how im writing actually works.
> 
> if you didnt enjoy id also like to hear why but if you didnt enjoy it then i dont know why you've read 7 chapters of this nonsense.
> 
> so basically if you've read this much of my writing id appreciate it a lot if you told me what you thought. even if you thought it was all just a bit mediocre


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